


Nobody Better Touch My Angel

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley is a pine tree, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Jealous!Crowley, M/M, Pining, Possessive!Crowley, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vague mentions of sex (at least by my standards)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Crowley buys Aziraphale his first smartphone, and is surprised and pleased by how quickly the angel takes to the new technology. Until of course Aziraphale receives his first dick pic.This fic is dedicated to Caedmon, who came up with this delightful prompt. I hope you like it! :)It hasn't been beta'd, so beware, there WILL be mistakes.If anyone has any good prompts, hit me up on tumblr @slow-burn-sally
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 457





	Nobody Better Touch My Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caedmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/gifts).



Things were different after the world didn’t end. Or, perhaps they weren’t different at all. It was sometimes hard to tell. Crowley had a very deeply entrenched series of behaviors that had come about by way of necessity _before_ the armageddon’t, and it was tough to unpack and unravel them _afterwards._

Behaviors like never touching the angel. Never letting the angel see his eyes when he was drinking. Behaviors like suggesting that he and the angel meet up in public, in parks or at restaurants, and only accepting a closer, more intimate rendezvous when it was _the angel_ doing the inviting. 

He’d spent far too many long and lonely years, trapped between Hell’s expectations and Heaven’s temptation, pulled like a puppet on a string, this way and that. Pretending not to love Aziraphale when he spoke to Hastur and Ligur and Lord Beelzebub during check in calls. Pretending not to love Aziraphale when talking to… Aziraphale. Feeling the constant state of mild dread underlying the burgeoning friendship he was enjoying _way too much_ with his sworn enemy for six thousand bloody years. 

Yes, there were lots of behaviors he needed to step away from, or at the very least, modulate were he to build some semblance of a normal existence post ApacaWasnt. 

Some surprisingly positive things had come about in the wake of the not-disaster. For one, Aziraphale and he could spend all the time together they wanted to. And, when Crowley looked honestly at their communication patterns since all that nonsense went down, he was pleased to realize a pattern of Aziraphale reaching out to _Crowley first_ had emerged. It was far more often the angel doing the asking and the demon accepting, than the other way around. Crowley was happy in a secret way about this. It meant the angel enjoyed his company. Really and truly. Not just because of the thrill of being secretive allies against Team Wank Wings and Team Lick Walls, but because Aziraphale _liked_ Crowley. Liked him and wanted to be with him.

_Wanted to spend time with him_ , Crowley quickly corrected his thought process and brought things down a notch. Aziraphale didn’t want to _be with_ Crowley. That’s the last thing he’d likely want. But he did want to be _friends_ with the demon. He did seem quite amenable to an evening spent drinking wine and chatting now and then, or a trip to one of a series of lovely little bakeries around the city where they sold ‘just the most scrumptious cake’, where Crowley would sip at a coffee and watch Aziraphale eat from behind the shelter of his dark shades. 

Crowley spent his down time at his own flat yelling at his plants, or wandering around Soho and Mayfair, causing random trouble. He didn’t really have the heart to do any true mischief making. Not like with the guns at the convent. Not like when he’d frozen time in order to give Adam the chance to figure out how to stand up to Lucifer. Nothing that flashy. He simply continued gluing coins to the pavement, causing flat tires when people were on their way to particularly stupid movies, and messing about with people’s cellular reception randomly. It was really the most he could bring himself to do in the demonic mischief department. 

Aziraphale, for his part, had continued along his normal track of reading, drinking tea, filing and refiling his books, and making sure that very few people actually purchased any of them. He also did the occasional angelic miracle to help out this or that human. It was in his nature after all.

Aziraphale continued to be his usual, cheerful, fussy self, always tutting over the state of this or that book having a cracked spine or a threadbare cover. Always with that irritatingly perky optimism that drove Crowley batty sometimes while strangely also making his heart swell to twice it’s usual size what with all the love and affection he felt for the angel. 

Aziraphale’s old fashioned nature was almost always fine with Crowley. He didn’t mind that the angel had a sofa that was older than most people’s great grandmothers, or that he used an ancient gramaphone to listen to records of composers that had died three hundred years ago. It was all part and parcel of Aziraphale’s charm. 

The two things that Crowley found less acceptable however, were Aziraphale’s thoughts on music, and the fact that he didn’t have a mobile phone. 

Not even taking into account the fact that all the music in Crowley’s Bentley always eventually reverted to The Best Of Queen, Aziraphale still had no right to refer to The Velvet Underground as ‘bebop’. Not only that, but the angel routinely looked at Crowley with a blank stare whenever the demon tried to turn him on to any music that was recorded after 1935. 

As for the mobile phone, Aziraphale had resisted buying one for a decade now. This didn’t surprise Crowley, but it _did_ irritate him. He wanted to be able to text Aziraphale and send him funny Youtube videos and pictures. He liked the idea of having Aziraphale more reachable and easier to communicate with. As it stood now, he had to either ring the angel on his old fashioned landline phone that looked like something Greta Garbo might have used to place a call, or head over to the bookshop to see him by foot or by Bentley. It would be so much easier to text him

_Hey angel. Coming over. Need anything?_

_Hey angel, have you ever seen The Princess Bride? We should watch that sometime._

_Hey angel, here's a pic of me in my new jacket. Do you like it?_

Yes, the opportunity to text Aziraphale alone was enough to make Crowley start planning how to tempt the angel into buying a smartphone in earnest. He’d asked their friends, the Youngs, the Pulsifers, Madam Tracy, and all of them had agreed wholeheartedly that Aziraphale needed a mobile phone. 

Armed with the approval of their small social circle and the type of determination that had gotten Crowley through six centuries of devious acts and hidden agendas, he went down to the local mobile phone shop and bought a sleek, white (of course) iPhone for the angel. 

On his way over to the shop, he even stopped to pick up a few of Aziraphale’s favorite pastries from a local bakery he liked, to sort of soften him up to the idea of the mobile phone. Crowley was not above bribery. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d invented the concept, sometime in ancient Mesopotamia. 

He strode into the bookshop only to find Aziraphale exactly where he’d assumed he’d be, standing behind the register, cup of tea at his elbow, engrossed in a book.

“Hey angel,” he said, swinging his way over to Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked up and his face broke into a warm smile upon seeing Crowley. His smile always made Crowley a bit weak in the knees, but the demon ignored the butterflies in his stomach and held out the gifts he’d brought.  
  


“Got you some things,” he said gruffly, thrusting the bag of pastries and the mobile phone (encased in a sleek, white cardboard box) at Aziraphale’s surprised face. 

“Oh my! Well thank you Crowley! Isn’t this a lovely surprise!” Aziraphale, his smile growing impossibly brighter, reached out and took both gifts from Crowley’s outstretched hands. “Are those pastries from Monique’s? They certainly _smell_ like they are. And oh! What’s this?” He was looking at the mobile phone box with curiosity and Crowley smiled inwardly in anticipation. 

“I did something I’ve been meaning to do for about eight years now,” Crowley said through a sly grin. “Open it up angel.” 

Aziraphale lifted the top off of the narrow cardboard box and took out the sleek, slim, white smartphone, gazing down at its white casing and the glossy black surface of its display screen for a second in total uncomprehension. “Is this…” he started to ask hesitantly. 

“It’s a smartphone!” Crowley chirped. “Well, an iPhone to be exact.” he specified as Aziraphale turned the mobile over and over in his hands as if it were some rare artifact from a pharaoh's tomb.

“But...Crowley, I’ve no use for such a thing.” Aziraphale said, sounding confused. 

Crowley had expected this sort of reaction, and he was prepared. “Of course you do angel. You don’t even know all the fantastic things you can do with one of these.” He leaned against the angel’s counter top and reached over to grab the mobile out of Aziraphale’s hands. “You can communicate via email with all your book dealing associates. You can take pictures of books and send them to interested parties with the touch of a button. You can look up recipes for cakes and pastries. You can keep in instant communication with me…. And with the Youngs and the Pulsifers. The applications are endless. And, speaking of applications! Don’t even get me started on all the apps you can use!”

“Apps?” Aziraphale sounded confused. “Isn’t that slang for appetizers? How would I obtain appetizers through a mobile telephone?”

“Ironically, you _could_ obtain actual appetizers with this thing,” Crowley admitted, “but ‘apps’ aren’t food. They’s special applications you can download to your phone that allow you to do all sorts of fantastic things.”

“Like what? Crowley, you do realize we can do whatever we want with just a snap of the fingers. There’s really no need to-”

“This is different.” interjected Crowley. “The stuff you can do with a mobile phone is different than the stuff you do with your angelic powers. More applicable to modern life. I’ll explain it all eventually, but it was high time you got one of these. Our friends all agree.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale asked distractedly. He’d taken the mobile back from Crowley and was turning it over in his hands with a confused look on his face. 

“Yes! We _all_ want to be able to text you,” he said brightly. 

“Text?” Aziraphale sounded confused again and Crowley stifled a flash of irritation at the angel’s ancient sensibilities. To Aziraphale, microwave ovens were “new fangled”. And he still kept the shop’s books by using literal books, where he carefully jotted down daily sums by pen. Crowley supposed he should count himself lucky that Aziraphale had abandoned writing by quill and inkwell, and no longer used a wax seal when he mailed off his bills. 

“I’ll explain it all. We can sit together for a few hours and I’ll show you all the ins and outs. Deal?” He asked, raising his eyebrows over the rim of his dark glasses expectantly. 

“Well, certainly Crowley. That sounds nice. Though I can’t promise I’ll understand all the things you want to show me,” Aziraphale, bless him, was being flexible and understanding. He _could_ at times dig his heels in and be a real bastard, so Crowley counted himself lucky. 

________________________________________________________ 

Two hours and several cups of tea later, Crowley had successfully taught Aziraphale how to write and send text messages, how to take photos with the camera and send them to his friends. He’d helped Aziraphale program the mobile numbers of all their friends into his contacts list and taught the angel how to surf the web and open and close out of new search windows. Aziraphale surprisingly had taken to the mobile pretty quickly. He seemed to intuitively understand the concept of a touch screen far more than he’d ever been able to grasp the concept of a keyboard.

Crowley had tried to introduce Aziraphale to the joys of computer ownership twenty years prior, only to be met with a look of utter confusion from the angel. No matter how he’d tried to explain the use of a mouse, or the typing in of command prompts, Aziraphale had completely failed to grasp those concepts. Touchscreens however were direct and easy to understand. Touch the thing and it does what you want. It was an incredibly simple concept. And so, Aziraphale was off and running after only a relatively short lesson on mobile phone usage. Crowley was overjoyed. He’d waited far too long for the angel to get a smartphone, and was already mentally preparing for all the fun texting they’d be able to do together. 

After their little lesson, they settled in for a few glasses of wine and a nice chat. Aziraphale’s eyes were shining with excitement over his new toy and he peppered Crowley with questions, that the demon indulgently answered. By the time the evening was over and Crowley was headed home, Aziraphale had made himself an Instagram _and_ a Twitter account and was setting up Facebook, and Crowley wondered if perhaps he’d created a monster.

He got home around one in the morning and sent an experimental first text to Aziraphale. 

_Have a good night angel,_ he texted. The response came in after only about thirty seconds.

_You too Crowley! Sweet dreams!_

Sweet dreams. Crowley smiled happily down at the glowing text notification from Aziraphale on the face of his mobile and felt his heart jump inside his chest. His angel was finally welcoming in the new millennium and he couldn’t be more proud. 

_____________________________________________________

The next morning, he woke to no less than fifteen texts from Aziraphale. At first this seemed a bit odd, until he remembered that Aziraphale never slept, and that he had a new mobile phone to play with, apparently until five o’clock in the morning, if the time stamp on the last text was to be believed. 

_Hello Crowley. Will you accept my friends request on the facebook? I sent you one, but I’m not sure if you can tell on your end. Thank you!_

_Hello Crowley. What is a filter? Is it like a coffee filter? Or perhaps a water filter on a fish tank? Everyone on Instagram is talking about them and I’m confused._

_Hello Crowley. Thank you ever so much for my new mobile phone. It is quite fascinating. Did you know that I can send you recordings of sounds as well as pictures?_

What followed was a few snippets of Aziraphale speaking into the mobile’s microphone, saying silly things that made Crowley’s heart go all warm and gooey.

‘ _Crowley! This is the principality Aziraphale! Put down that apple and come have tea with me! Hahaha!’_

‘ _Get thee behind me foul fiend! Oh! This is jolly good fun this is!’_ ’

_‘Crowley, I’m not sure which button to press to turn this thing off, maybe you co-’_

Aziraphale had absolutely no right to be this adorable. Crowley rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went in search of some coffee before texting him back. 

After two cups of strong espresso roast and a hot shower, Crowley opened his mobile back up and responded.  
  
 _Glad to see you’re getting the hang of things angel. Fancy breakfast at that cafe you like? The one with the striped awning out front?_

The reply was almost instantaneous. _That would be delightful! Meet you there in half an hour?’_

Crowley grinned broadly at how enthusiastically Aziraphale had taken to the mobile phone. To think, after all these years of relentlessly shrugging off any attempts to modernize him, the angel had finally decided he’d welcome this ubiquitous new technology into his life. And my how he’d welcomed it! He was chugging along faster than a tech savvy thirteen year old. 

Crowley grabbed his coat and headed out the door to meet Aziraphale with a new bounce in his step. 

When he arrived at the cafe, some fifteen minutes later, he saw that Aziraphale was already there, mobile in his hand, peering at the screen with intense concentration. 

“Hello Crowley!” he piped cheerily as Crowley slid into the chair opposite him in the cafe’s outdoor seating section. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Better than you did apparently.” Crowley responded with a lazy smile and a flick of his hand at the server so he could ask for some more coffee. “Don’t think you’ve put that thing down since I gave it to you.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale looked momentarily embarrassed. He put his mobile face down on the table between them with a sigh. “I certainly _have_ been quite absorbed in it. But now that you’re here, I shall focus all my attention on you.” he grinned warmly at Crowley, but the demon noted how the angel’s eyes kept flicking back and forth between Crowley’s face and the phone on the table, as if he couldn’t wait to pick it up again. 

“Glad you like it,” Crowley said, and meant it. He was still slightly in shock at how quickly Aziraphale had taken to the mobile, but pleased beyond measure. He’d honestly thought he’d have to prod Aziraphale relentlessly for weeks to get a simple text message out of him. 

They chatted amiably about this and that thing, most of it centered predictably around Aziraphale’s new piece of technology. He told Crowley how he’d called Anathema and started playing Words With Friends with Dierdre and how he’d sent Adam links to funny Buster Keaton videos he found on Youtube. Crowley smiled and nodded through it all. 

“And I’ve even made some new friends!” Aziraphale exclaimed happily while spearing a large chunk of blueberry danish with his fork. 

“New friends eh?” Crowley asked, suppressing a sudden flash of irrational jealousy. He had a possessive streak when it came to Aziraphale, and tended to see him as “his angel” a bit too often. But how could he not be just a bit possessive? Aziraphale had been his one and only true friend for six thousand bloody years. It was hard not to cherish and guard a bond that old and that deep. 

There was also the fact that Crowley wanted to get closer to Aziraphale. _Much_ closer in fact. And that he lacked the courage to let the angel know. He hated the idea of Aziraphale making friends with people who would take the angel’s time away from Crowley. Crowley who wanted to spend virtually every minute of every day in conversation with his sweet voiced, kind eyed, white-blond companion through the ages. But, he wasn’t an unreasonable demon. He respected Aziraphale’s boundaries. He knew Aziraphale was an autonomous being with his own wants and needs. The angel could make new friends. As long as he didn’t want to shag any of them, Crowley was reasonably sure he could deal with it. 

For having known Aziraphale as long as he had, Crowley was still uncertain about the angel’s atittudes towards sex. He seemed completely uninterested at times, preferring to focus on his books, or new recipes for delicious baked goods, or in spending time chatting with Anathema and Deirdre. But… there were also times when he could swear he caught a lascivious gleam in the angel’s stormy eyes. Like when the two of them walked through a museum together and stopped to admire a grecian statue of a naked young man, and Crolwey could swear he saw blush coloring Aziraphale’s pale cheeks. Or, during a few cherished moments from their shared history when he was almost certain Aziraphale had looked at him with a soft sort of expression on his open face that had Crowley wondering if perhaps the angel could want him back. 

He lacked the courage to come out and ask. They’d been pretending to be adversaries for so long that just opening up to the relatively new concept of referring to one another as _friends_ felt incredibly awkward. It wasn’t the time to ask if perhaps Aziraphale would enjoy a night of searing hot passion in Crowley’s bed. 

“Yes! I’ve been making new friends on Facebook!” Aziraphale’s cheery voice broke Crowley out of his rather steamy line of thinking and he redirected his attention back to his breakfast companion and away from thoughts of pushing Aziraphale down on Crowley’s memory foam mattress and having his way with him. 

“Oh, Facebook, yes.” Crowley breathed an inward sigh of relief. It was easy to make new connections on social media sites. This didn’t mean Aziraphale was sitting in cafes with strangers, sharing his smile and his adorably dated sense of humor with _other people_. 

“I’ve made friends with several book dealers overseas,” Aziraphale was saying. “And I’ve joined several private groups where people discuss literature and the upkeep of old books. It’s quite lovely, having all these people to talk books with. I’m used to it just being me and my customers at the shop.”

“Most of whom you usher out the door before they can talk about much of anything,” Crowley remarked with a smirk while raising his coffee cup to his lips. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s blue-gray eyes flashed with indignation. “I do no such thing! I simply have a sixth sense for who would and who would _not_ truly appreciate my first editions and I’m only separating the wheat from the chaff as it were.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself angel,” Crowley sipped his coffee and leered at Aziraphale over the rim of his mug. 

They talked about Crowley’s latest escapades and Aziraphale’s latest run in with a surly customer for another hour or so. Aziraphale polished off his blueberry danish, a croissant and a cinnamon scone, making all sorts of indecent noises over how delectable they were. Crowley tried not to squirm in his seat at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice going all deep and husky as he moaned with pleasure over each sugar encrusted morsel. The angel could make any dessert into a porno film just by eating it. 

The parted ways eventually with Aziraphale satisfyingly asking Crowley over for drinks later. He was headed off to meet Dierdre, Arthur and Adam at the park to feed the ducks. He invited Crowley along, but though Crowley liked the Youngs, there was only so much wholesome family togetherness time he could handle before he started twitching with the urge to make messes and start trouble. This predictably caused Adam to want to join him in submerging surprised ducks, or causing ladies hats to blow off in sudden breezes, and _this_ always resulted in Deirdre and Arthur looking at Crowley with disapproval. 

So he’d begged off. saying he had demon things to do and wandered back towards his flat, thinking of ways to kill time until he could see the angel again.

____________________________________

He sauntered back into the bookshop at half past seven on the nose. Aziraphale was sitting on his sofa, mobile in his hand as usual, typing away with plump thumbs. 

“What’s up angel?” Crowley asked, dropping down next to him and proceeding to lounge in a very serpentine way, with his arm stretched out along the back of the sofa and his legs splayed wide. 

“Oh, hello Crowley!” Aziraphale smiled distractedly at him. “I’ve just been chatting with one of my new book friends on Facebook. He’s been very talkative, and he seems to enjoy my conversation very much.”

“Of course he does,” Crowley responded while doing an admirable job of suppressing his pang of jealousy over Aziraphale enjoying a conversation with someone who wasn’t himself. “You’re fun to talk to angel.”

“Oh, do you really think so?” Aziraphale asked, turning the warmest, softest smile toward Crowley as he looked up from his mobile. Crowley’s stomach flip flopped and he swallowed thickly as Aziraphale’s large, shining eyes met his and virtually glowed with pleasure at the compliment. 

“Yeah,” choked out Crowley, swiftly looking away and clearing his throat to regain his composure. “You’re loads of fun to chat with.” 

“I’m ever so glad you think so Crowley. This man, Charlie, he lives in Nebraska, in the United States, and he’s got an impressive collection of Mark Twain first editions. I’m trying to find out if he’ll part with any of them. He seems to have taken a shine to me.” he said, thankfully unaware of how Crowley was grinding his teeth on the sofa next to him. 

“That’s nice,” Crowley replied, deadpan. “I’m glad you’ve… made a new friend.”

“He told me to hold on a second,” Aziraphale replied. “He said he has something to show me. I’m hoping it's a picture of his 1870 first edition copy of Tom Sawyer…” Aziraphale looked back down at his phone just as a new photo popped up on the screen, and Crowley heard him gasp. 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said softly. 

“What is it?” Crowley asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to feign interest in another one of Aziraphale’s endless book acquisitions. He was glad the angel loved what he did for a living, but he, unlike Aziraphale, didn’t find books all that exciting.

“It appears he was _not_ referring to a book when he told me he had something to show me,” Aziraphale’s voice had gone all funny. He sounded breathless and a touch confused. 

“What is it?” Crowley couldn’t see the details of the image Aziraphale’s friend Charlie had sent him from his vantage point a couple of feet away on the sofa. To him, the picture that popped up on the screen of Aziraphale’s mobile just looked like a dark blob. “Show me.” he said, only a little bit insistently. Whatever it was, it had Aziraphale sounding strange and Crowley didn’t like it.

“Well my dear. I’m not sure how to put this, but… he seems to have sent me a picture of… to be quite honest Crowley, he seems to have sent me picture of his… penis.” 

“ _What?!_ ” Without thinking, Crowley grabbed the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand and brought it up to his face. Yes. There it was. Large as life (and it _was_ rather large). A picture of a man’s cock. It was erect and this Nebraska book dealer had his hand wrapped around the base of it, as if to more prominently display it for the lens of his phone’s camera. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale was saying faintly. “I rather think he’s gotten the wrong impression.”

“He bloody well _has_ !” Crowley was yelling now. How _dare_ this _absolute stranger_ send a picture of his _genitals_ to Crowley’s sweet, innocent angel!

“Crowley dearest. Might I have my phone back now please?” 

“Why?!” Crowley asked, his voice getting louder and louder by the second. “So you can get another look? Oh no angel. Nope. I won’t stand for it!”

“You won’t… stand for it?” Aziraphale sounded confused. “What do yo-”

Crowley cut him off, leaping from the sofa with Aziraphale’s mobile phone still clutched in his hand. “I didn’t get you this phone so you could receive… _dick pics_ from lonely mid westerners angel. I got you this smartphone so that you could make connections with other people. Connections that definitely do _not_ involve looking at strange men’s penises!”

“Crowley, you’re being silly now. I don’t actually want to look at the picture. I simply want to message him back to say thank you but no thank you. So if you’ll just -” 

“Nonsense! _I’ll_ do it for you.” Crowley snarled as he stepped back and away from Aziraphale’s reach as the angel tried to grab his phone back. 

“Crowley, I wish you wouldn’t blow this out of proportion,” 

“The only _blowing_ that’s going to happen here is me, blowing this chap off so that he never messages you again!” Crowley had ripped his shades off and was glaring down at Aziraphale’s surprised face as he kept the phone up and out of Aziraphale’s grasp. 

“What’s gotten into you Crowley? Why are you behaving this way?” Luckily, Aziraphale didn’t look alarmed. Only mildly confused at Crowley’s slowly losing his mind. He’d seen a whole heck of a lot during the last six millennia on earth. Floods. Famine. The parting of the Red Sea. One apoplectic demon probably wasn’t much cause for real concern.

“Nothing’s gotten into me!” Crowley snapped back. It was a lie of course. He felt a powerful rush of possessive jealousy rise up in him like some green eyed serpent, hissing and spitting inside his chest. He took another look at the pic of the man’s cock on Aziraphale’s screen. It was now joined by a message reading _see anything you like?_ Crowley’s blood started to boil. 

“He’s asking you if you _like it_ ?! Can you believe the nerve of this _twat_?!”

“Crowley, calm down. You’re being ridiculous!” Aziraphale was standing now, his hands clutched together at his belly, looking worried, but Crowley couldn’t seem to turn off the switch that had been flipped inside him. All sorts of unpleasant thoughts and feelings were welling up from six thousand years spent pining over a completely unattainable, virginal angel who just never seemed to notice how much Crowley was longing for him. And here was this... _wanker_ . This total stranger, sending _his_ angel a picture of his _dick_ , without so much as a by your leave. 

  
“I’m _not_ being ridiculous!” Crowley yelled ridiculously, deciding to double down rather than apologize. “I’m only trying to protect you from...from...the dark side of the internet!” he spat out while tapping the reply box on the screen and starting to type out a response with his thumbs.

_If you ever so much as say hello to my precious angel ever again, I will hunt you down and remove your eyeballs with my bare hands...”_ The words flew across the screen under the onslaught of Crowley’s furious typing fingers. He hit send, then stiffly handed the phone back to Aziraphale and turned around, arms crossed, in full on possessive pout mode, scowling and trying to hide it by facing away from the angel. 

“You responded to him? Crowley, dear, you really shouldn’t have done that. I’m perfectly capable of…” he heard Aziraphale’s voice trail off, and realized that he was probably reading the message Crowley had sent back to Mr. Big Dick. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice had gone all soft and cautious. _Shit_ , Thought Crowley. _Shit shit shit_ . _He read the message and now he thinks I’ve gone completely mental._

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated, and Crowley actually flinched at the sound of confusion in the angel’s tone. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, and Crowley heard him take a step closer. “You...you called me…’my precious angel’. Crowley, why did you say that?”

Crowley didn’t have a response. He didn’t dare say anything. It was sinking in fully now that he’d showed his hand in the most spectacular way possible. Some idiot on Facebook had sent Aziraphale a dick pic and Crowley had lost his mind so quickly and so completely that there was no backing out now. There was no excuse he could give the angel that Aziraphale would believe. Other than the truth. That he was massively in love with Aziraphale and didn’t want anyone else touching him….ever.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale was very close now, and he reached out and placed a soft hand on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley jerked away from his touch and took a few more steps away, still keeping his back to Aziraphale. Hiding his face from the angel like a child. 

“Forget I said anything,” he said, sounding petulant. “Just forget this whole thing ever happened. I should head back home.” He turned around, and carefully keeping his eyes away from Aziraphale’s face, started stalking for the door to the shop.

“Wh-where are you going? Crowley! I think I deserve an explanation for your behavior. What did you mean by calling me your precious angel?”

Crowley didn’t respond, only continued walking toward the door. Aziraphale however was not so easily put off. With a snap of his fingers, he appeared in front of Crowley in the foyer, effectively blocking his exit. Crowley skidded to a stop and hurriedly shoved his shades back onto his face to hide the burning jealousy in his eyes, and the fear of what would happen if Aziraphale found out what was behind it. 

“Angel, let me out. I want to go home.”

“But _why?_ ” Aziraphale practically wailed at him. “You can’t go all strange on me and then walk away. That’s not fair Crowley! And it’s not a very sportsmanlike way to behave. I thought we were friends _.”_

“ _Friends_ ,” Crowley couldn’t help but sneer when he said the word. A small but persistent part of his brain was telling him he was being a total prat, but he ignored it. “You said so yourself just a few months ago that we’re _not_ friends. You said you didn’t even like me!”

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale’s face had gone sad and Crowley internally kicked himself for his insensitive words. “You know I was under quite a bit of stress when I said that. I _do_ consider you a friend. A very _good_ friend. And I...I... _do_ like you. Quite a bit. Won’t you come sit down again and talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Crowley snapped, folding his arms across his chest again and refusing to budge. “I simply didn’t appreciate some _strange human man_ sending you a picture of his twig and berries, that’s all.”

“You...you called me your ‘precious angel’ Crowley. What does that mean? You think I’m...precious?”

“Please angel,” Crowley was begging now. “Can we just drop it? I didn’t mean what I said. I just got angry and I wanted him to leave you alone.”

He immediately realized the error of his words as Aziraphale’s face crumbled, his expression switching from concern to sadness, his eyes growing misty. _Satan damn him_ but the angel had these big, stormy, puppy dog eyes and Crowley would rather permanently discorporate in a lake of holy water than make the angel sad. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, reaching out and placing a tentative hand on Aziraphale’s upper arm, feeling himself coming down from his panicked jealousy. “I wrote that because I do very much mean it. You are...you’re...well… you _are_ _precioustome_ ” he said in a rush, almost under his breath.

Aziraphale stepped a little closer, still looking at Crowley with those huge, soulful eyes, all kind and worried and uncertain. “What was that Crowley? I couldn’t quite hear that last part?”

_The bastard_

“I said, you’re precious to me OK?” Crowley spat it out while purposefully not looking at Azirpahale’s face. 

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice was gentle and careful and he stepped even closer. “You’re precious to me too my dear.”

“I am?” Crowley, surprised by Aziraphale’s response, dared to look him in the eyes. He saw Aziraphale’s face, suffused with a deep affection, eyes glowing, a sweet, soft smile on his face. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Aziraphale reached up and grasped the side of Crowley’s dark glasses by the arm and pulled them from Crowley’s face. Crowley suffocated the urge to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent Aziraphale from seeing all the anguished uncertain love echoing in them, but knew it was too late at this point. Hiding would just be childish. Instead, he looked back at Aziraphale with all the courage he could muster. 

“Yes my dear,” Aziraphale replied, folding Crowley’s glasses up and putting them in the front pocket of his jacket, giving them a little pat and then returning his eyes to Crowley’s face. “Yes, I think of you as very precious indeed.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, feeling dumb. 

“Crowley, I have something to ask you, and I want you to be completely honest with me,” Aziraphale said, twisting his hands together again and peering at Crowley with obvious worry echoing in his facial features. 

“Yeah, sure. Shoot.” Crowley managed to get out. Aziraphale had stepped very close indeed, and at this point they were only separated by a few inches of empty space. He could smell Aziraphale’s cinnamon-vanilla scent, and it was intoxicating. 

“Do you...do you think you might like to be… more than friends?” the angel asked hesitantly. 

“More than friends?” Crowley asked numbly, his brain struggling to think of any other possible way that question could be taken. “Like...business associates.” 

“No silly,” Aziraphale looked down, blushing, then back up at Crowley through his lashes in a way that made Crowley’s toes curl and his cheeks heat up. “I meant as… well...what do the humans call it? Perhaps as...lovers?”

“Lovers,” Crowley repeated, hearing his blood rushing in his ears. 

“Yes my dear. Lovers. Would you have any interest in maybe...I don’t know… taking our relationship to a more physical level? And if you don’t want to, I’ll understand completely. I’ll drop the subject and never bring it up again.”

“I’d like that very much,” Crowley spat it out before he could let fear still his tongue. 

He watched as Aziraphale’s face melted into the loveliest, sweetest smile. “Oh Crowley, that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps, since we both agree,” he continued. “Perhaps you could... kiss me?”  
  


He didn’t have to ask twice. Crowley stepped forward and swept Aziraphale up into his arms, pressing his lips against the angels in a firm kiss. The softness of Aziraphale’s lips melting against his own had his brain shorting out and several choice locations on his body sparking with pleasurable tingles. He moaned softly and squeezed the angel tighter in his arms, and heard Aziraphale let out a happy sigh as the kiss deepened. 

Crowley pulled back breathless after a few thrilling moments and looked Aziraphale in the eyes. “Would you perhaps see your way to um...joining me in a nearby bed?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t know how you feel about sex and all, but I’d really like to try it with you if that’s alright.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him with kiss-bruised lips and nodded enthusiastically. “I’d like that very much Crowley,” he responded. “Shall we go upstairs?”

Crowley practically dragged Aziraphale up the stairs to the angel’s rarely-used bedroom and shoved him unceremoniously down on the bed. After some hurried negotiations they abandoned the idea of removing their clothing manually and undressed via a snap of Crowley’s fingers. And then… well, then Crowley was treated to the most deliciously enjoyable evening he’d ever experienced. He’d never had sex before, and he was fairly certain Azirpahale hadn’t either, but somehow, they figured it all out quite easily, swiftly making up for lost time. 

Crowley learned that Aziraphale made breathless little squeaking noises when Crowley bit his neck and that the angel absolutely adored having his arse gripped in both of Crowley’s hands. He learned that Aziraphale’s skin tasted like fresh cream, with a hint of lavender and that his hair was so silky soft that he almost couldn’t keep a grip on it. He learned that Aziraphale loved it when Crowley said possessive things to him in bed.

“You’re mine, aren’t you angel?” Crowley rasped out while thrusting slowly into the heat of Aziraphale’s body, Aziraphale’s hips grasped in his hands. 

“Yes Crowley, _yes_ , I’m yours, _all yours_ ,” Aziraphale said softly, fervently, wrapping his legs around Crowley’s waist and pulling him down into another kiss. “All yours forever,” he whispered just before their lips met. 

After they’d made love, after Aziraphale had come, gasping Crowley’s name and Crowley had lost control while shouting “Angel!” over and over, they lay in an exhausted heap, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“I’ve loved you from the minute I first saw you,” Aziraphale said while running gentle fingers up and down Crowley’s inner thigh. 

“Oh angel, me too. From the very beginning. I saw you up on that wall back in Eden and I was gone on you in an instant.”

“You were?” Aziraphale paused in his stroking of Crowley’s leg to look at him with surprised eyes. 

“Yeah, of course angel. The minute you told me you gave that sword away I knew I was a goner.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Aziraphale asked, then frowned gently, seeming to answer his own question. “Yes, I suppose being on opposite sides for so long sort of ruled out any closer connection. But I’m glad you wanted me back.”

“I did, very much,” Crowley replied, leaning in to kiss Aziraphale’s forehead and squeeze him more tightly in his embrace. “Do you think your friend in Nebraska got the message when I told him I’d rip his eyes out if he sent you anymore pictures.”

“Oh yes my darling,” Aziraphale smiled warmly as he wriggled closer. “You can be quite concise when you want to be.” 

“Nobody better try and touch my angel,” Crowley mumbled happily as they both drifted off for a hazy nap, secure in each other’s love, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
